Always a Sorcerer
by VoiceofSociety
Summary: He always had been one. Nothing about him would ever change because of that. The problem was that he always would be one, and that changed everything". Reveal and very post-reveal fic. Subtle pairings if you squint. Spoilers for all episodes up to date.
1. Prologue: The dragon

Merlin Story 1

Prologue

Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, I'd be much, much richer than I am now.

Author note: This is actually my first written work. It's an idea that just seems to work itself out the more I think about it. I've wanted to start writing for a while now, but no ideas have ever come this smoothly before. This is a bit of a test to see how well or poorly my work will be taken to. If it works out and I get a couple of reviews, I may start actually dedicating myself to fanfiction. If not, I doubt I'll be heartbroken. All that said, I'd love to hear what you think if you've read and enjoyed this. Please enjoy!

* * *

The wooden bowl clunked against to iron tray it rested on as it was carried to the dungeons. The maidservant slowed down as she walked, as she had done every day, so as not to spill any of the food she was delivering. She gave the tray a disapproving stare. It was hardly enough to begin with; a bowl of thin soup and a chunk of bread once a day could scarcely be called rations, even for a prisoner. It was a wonder he hadn't starved by now, despite how vital it was that he stay alive.

When she reached the gates at the bottom end of the dungeons, she was stopped by the guards. By now, most of them knew who she was and her purpose, but they searched her every time. Protocol, they said.

"Purpose?" one of them asked, after having checked her for any suspicious items.

"Food for the prisoner" she replied patiently, "just like every other day."

They nodded in unison, unlocking the heavy gates and allowing her through. This was the third gate and set of guards she had passed today. It only made sense, of course. The prisoner was extremely dangerous.

She held both the tray and the lit torch carefully as she entered the tunnel to the caves. It was dark, and the heavy air made it hard to breath. Before the events of the last years, she hadn't even known that these tunnels and caves had existed. Now they frightened her. She had seen what they had held before their current occupant, and could almost feel the remainders of the great dragon's presence. She turned the final corner and entered the huge caverns. Carefully again she stepped down to the lower valleys between the sharp black rock.

Sitting in the center, leaning against the rock, she saw the shape of the prisoner. It was a painful sight. He had grown pale and thin since his imprisonment. He was quieter now, too. After all, he was rarely allowed visitors. She looked at the huge chains that melded smoothly into the smaller ones that encircled his ankle. She tried to imagine him sitting, chained in to the rock, wrapped up in his dark hooded cloak, and - worst of all - alone. For the rest of his life.

As she stepped closer, the prisoner turned to her and gave his friendly old smile. He always smiled when she came.

"Hello Gwen." He stated, sounding for all the world a free man.

_ Prisoner_, she thought. The word had tasted sour on her tongue. This man was no criminal. She couldn't help but smile back at him. Just like every other day.

"Hello Merlin."

* * *

Well, that's the prologue done. This is only a bit of foreshadowing to get you interested.


	2. Chapter 1: Ominous beginnings

Flashback begins here~

"This," Merlin huffed after his master "Is why you should listen to me more often!"

"Believe me Merlin, I'd love to" Crowned prince Arthur shot at his servant, "but experience shows that you have an uncanny knack for being wrong every time I try".

The manservant, the prince, and three knights were in hot pursuit of a group of radical dabblers in magic. Four of their men had snuck into Camelot on the day of a feast, disguised as hired help for the occasion. They had been very careful, and surprisingly well-organized. Their one mistake was more of a stroke of luck than anything else: they had been communicating in a typically non-verbal and druid manner, and Merlin, who had been helping with preparations, had simply picked up on it. He had then relayed the conversation to Arthur (omitting the telepathy, of course), as was entirely natural for this type of situation.

Of course, Arthur, as is entirely natural for himself, laughed the accusation off.

And so, in desperation, Merlin had confronted one of the men while in the kitchens. For his idiocy he earned himself a thorough trouncing (_without_ the use of magic, unfortunately) and a rather rude awakening when a maid found him unconscious and locked in a cupboard.

Because Merlin's mind was still reeling from his blow to the head, he went right back to Arthur's chambers. Of course, while suffering from both head trauma and chronic idiocy, he had forgotten that by now a very irritated Arthur would have dressed himself and left for the banquet with or without his manservant. By the time Merlin had reached the main hall, burst through the front doors and made a complete fool out of himself, the rogues were within range to strike at the king himself. Merlin had watched one man moving in to finish the deed.

And so, with a good twenty nobility watching him and no better ideas in sight, Merlin had charged across the hall and tackled the king - just in time for a dagger to whiz past his ear.

And to add insult to injury, the resulting clamor allowed the assailants a chance to escape.

So here they were, five men on horseback chasing a group of terrorists through the woods.

"Well, I suppose you'll never need to again" quipped Merlin "Because I think your father plans to kill me for assaulting the king!"

Arthur let out a hearty laugh at this. It was true: Uther had turned the most remarkable shade of red Merlin had ever seen when he'd been knocked over (a color which Gaius described as "Most certainly not healthy"). After all this was said and done, Merlin had the sinking feeling that his deed, heroic as it had been, would earn him a lengthy stay in the stocks.

When the trees became too dense, the pursuers were forced to dismount, following the trail on foot. It seemed to lead to an opening in the heavy forest around them, and was the most likely direction for a fleeing group to go in. The group walked through an opening in the wall of wood and stone. This was, unfortunately, a terrible mistake.

The party entered into a sunken clearing no bigger than Gaius' chambers.

At that moment, every man felt the danger of their position: five men, on foot, armed with only close-combat gear (one of which being entirely unarmed), and trapped on lower ground. It didn't take a knight to spot a trap this obvious. Arthur himself immediately turned back, sword drawn, just in time to see a tree crash down in front of the narrow exit. Swearing he drew his knights into a circle in the middle of the pit. Each man drew his sword and looked for the ambush they all knew to be coming.

"Merlin!" the prince yelled, startling his servant. "See if you can find a way past that tree!" he continued, eyes never leaving the ground above him.

The servant ran over to the tree. It was small enough to be climbed over, but that would take time. Time enough for men with bows to shoot them down, one by one. He looked to the left. The rocks were piled up to form a wall. He started to pull at the heavy stones, delighted when they gave way. If he could just move them enough, he might make the opening wide enough to pass through. He worked as fast as he could manage, pulling and kicking at the stones. The last rock took a bit more effort, but it went easily all the same, and the path was clear. He ran through, testing the effectiveness and safety. As he regained the high ground, there was still no sign of-

A rustle.

He turned, assessing what he saw faster than any ordinary human could have. There were at least eight men, all armed with crossbows, looming over the pit: five of them held Arthur as their target. They were too far apart to all be stopped before they fired. At the angle they were aiming, Arthur would be hit even if he were to 'trip' suddenly. Crossbows shots were also too fast to be intercepted by other objects, and Merlin was just too far to physically shove the prince himself. While the other knights, and Arthur himself, had all seen their attackers by now, none could possibly move fast enough to save him. Even the chainmail he wore would not save him from so many arrows at such close range. While one of the bandits had Merlin directly in his sights, his presence would not distract the others before they could fire.

Merlin raised his hand. A knight, Sir Gauter, was looking in his direction. Another, Sir Lavain, had him in his sights from the side. They might see if he preformed magic. But there was no help for that. Merlin's destiny was to see the prince alive until he became king. No matter the cost.

Six shots were fired.

Magic flashed in the sorcerer's eyes.

Five arrows and five men were knocked away by an unseen force. Five arrows and five men flew in the wrong direction. Two arrows and two men panicked and fled in an instant.

One arrow was loosed

One man shot and turned to flee. One man staggered from the arrow that cleanly pierced through his side. Eight men were defeated, four men were saved, and one man stood as the world spun around him.

Any knight knew magic when he saw it, and one knight had seen it.

It was stumbling into a tree with an arrow in its side.


	3. Chapter 2: Gears in Motion

Sorry for the wait, but I like to pretend I have a life and that it keeps me occupied in amusing ways.

Instead I have school to deal with. Bah.

Another shamelessly short update after a shamelessly long wait. I'm sorry. I really am. I love each and every one of you people who bother to read my fic. I'm also working on finding out where all my reviewers live so that I can send you all flowers and (if you were really nice) personally kiss you. I love you all. I'm just too lazy to write what gets me your attention in the first place.

Anyway, this chapter was horribly clunky in it's development, which explains the wait. I really kind of hated trying to work out how I wanted the actual reveal to go. All in all, it was awkward and slow and remains slightly unsatisfying. I don't know, how does it sound to you guys? The next chapter will probably be the same (Slow).

Grr. Oh well. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: VoiceofSociety does not equate to BBC.

* * *

Merlin could not help but trip.

Of course, he'd been clumsy all his life. Falling over in the woods would be one of his least remarkable accomplishments in this field. Besides, he wasn't normally this dizzy.

With much annoyance, he crashed into a tree. Overall, it wasn't inconceivable that he trip in the woods with a spinning head, but now just wasn't the time to be falling around: he still had to make sure that Arthur was safe, and he still had no guarantee that the rebels wouldn't return. He had also seen Sir Gauret, a man with quite a temper, making his way towards him. He had never gotten along with the knight, and the fact that he still held his sword was unnerving to say the least. Heaven knows how he'd be able to have a proper argument with his head running so slowly anyway. Merlin noted that he probably ought to get more sleep.

He felt a warm drop on his hand.

Bringing it to his face, he was surprised to see a bright red droplet running down his knuckles. On further inspection, he realized that his nose was bleeding. Worried about his clothes, the servant looked down to his tunic, only then realizing that he had been hit. An arrow was neatly lodged just below his ribcage on the left, and his blue shirt was becoming quite discolored.

"That's... going to… st…" he faltered, his vision swimming "…stain…A-Arthur?"

He looked up, knowing he ought to call louder. Arthur was probably busy right now. He probably wouldn't hear him. He never did listen. He'd have to call out a couple of times at least.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to call out.

Sir Gauret had reached him, and was now holding a sword at his throat.

"Sorcerer" he hissed.

Merlin couldn't help but be annoyed. Nobility. They really never listen, do they?

*

Arthur, for his part, was in an equally useless state of confusion.

He had scanned the tree line (what he could see of it), and had come to the conclusion that all of the assailants had run off somewhere. That was nice: even though he'd have to pursue them again later, at least he might be able to avoid another ambush. Sir Gauret had run off behind him, with Lavain and Sir Arrok following closely behind him. They were probably regaining the higher ground through the exit Merlin had been making. As a knight and a trained fighter, it probably would have been wise for him to do the same, thus removing himself from his disadvantageous position.

But all that was irrelevant right now. As important as these facts would usually be to him, his mind was otherwise preoccupied with _why_ it was all happening.

It was magic. There couldn't be another explanation. The oncoming arrows had all been blown away like birds in a storm, with the attackers faring no better. In his time, Arthur had seen what he thought to be a somewhat (un)healthy amount of magic, but rarely had he seen anything like this. For one, it wasn't nearly as subtle or refined as the types of spells he was used to: this was an act of sheer desperation. Powerful? Maybe. Effective? Certainly. Odd? No. This was beyond odd. This was baffling.

What magical being would be so keen and so desperate to protect the son of Uther Pendragon as to throw caution to the wind and reveal themselves in such a way? And, this being beyond baffling, why?

He knelt down to examine a fallen arrow.

No, the whole event was downright strange. Not only had the attack been deflected, but it had also quite effectively cleared off the assailants. Who was capable of such a task?

"Arthur?"

The prince turned towards the call.

"Arthur!!"

It was Sir Arrok, and it sounded urgent. He dropped the arrow and ran.

*

"Please!" groaned Merlin, his vision blurring dangerously. He needed Gaius, and soon. "I don't know… what…"

"Do not play games with me, Servant!" growled Sir Gauret, "That was sorcery! I saw you as those arrows flew!"

"You were the only one outside of the pit" Lavain said suspiciously. He had his sword drawn too now, but he did not appear nearly as firm in his accusations as Gauret. "I cannot deny that it was sorcery, and if it had been one of us in the pit, then surely we would have seen."

"He's injured! Sorcerer or no, there's nothing he can do right now. We need the Prince." reasoned Arrok. "Arthur? Athur!"

The whole situation had become volatile. Merlin was leaning with his back to a tree, trying desperately to stop his bleeding wound and hovering on the edge of consciousness. Guaret had his sword at the servant's throat and Lavain was standing right behind him. Arrok was only a couple paces away, calling for the highest authority present.

"I don't believe that for a second. You can never let your guard down with a sorcerer." Guaret's eyes never left Merlin. "Although, I suppose this one can't be much good, seeing the state he's landed himself in"

His eyes fell on the arrow.

"You're wrong" pleaded Merlin. The shock was starting to wear off for good and true now, and he found himself grasping for control of his senses. His breathing was becoming shallow and, as the pain from his wound was becoming sharper, his mind was going numb.

"Lies of a soulless conjurer! Born without shame, I'd wager."

He twisted the arrow in his captive's side with a nasty jerk.

Far away, someone was yelling, but that didn't matter quite yet.

What happened next was unavoidable: Injured, barely conscious and under attack, Merlin's magic surged to his defense. With a roar of outrage and agony, the warlock blasted his attacker ten feet away, collapsing on to his knees. This type of magic was a reflex for him of the most instinctual kind, and took very little energy most of the time. These were not normal circumstances.

Merlin looked up at the newly returned Sir Arrok, cringing at the fear in his eyes. His eyes then fell to the man beside him.

Damned be the arrow, he was sure that his heart had just stopped.

Arthur was staring, rooted to the spot, completely at a loss.

This was bad. Merlin's mind could only register one thing. Whether from the arrow in his side or from the coming accusations, the outcome was clear: He was going to die. He need to talk to Arthur before that happened. He needed to explain things. He had to warn him about the threats that he did not see.

"Arthur…" he started weakly. Before he could finish, he a twig crack behind him.

And then he was sure he had died.

*

Arthur could only watch as Lavain crept up behind his servant. He didn't so much as flinch when he brought down the pommel of his sword and knocked his friend into oblivion. He did not offer to help the stunned Gauret regain his footing.

He did not feel betrayal, or hurt, or anger. His mind did not reel with revelation and dismay.

His only response to the entire situation was a bewildered "Wha?"

Maybe it was the shock of it all. He felt like he had just been confronted with someone shrieking in a foreign language. It was like his childhood tutor teaching him how to do additions. Merlin plus magic equals what? It made no sense. He was almost annoyed at how ridiculously illogical it all was.

"Sire, what do we do with him now?"

Finally, he snapped out of his trance.

"We kill the rat before he can do any more damage!" Sir Gauret advanced on the fallen boy, sword drawn.

He raised his sword-

And was blocked by the crowned prince.

"Sire! He is a dangerous criminal and a threat to the kingdom! We must do away with him now while he cannot fight back!" Protested the knight.

"Tell me, Sir Gauret," Arthur shot back dangerously "since when did the Knights of Camelot resort to such cowardly means to handle their adversaries? How long have my knights been creeping up behind an injured suspect to beat him unconscious? Where in our code are we permitted to slaughter the wounded and unarmed while they cannot so much as speak?" With every other sensible thought currently inaccessible, the prince was falling back on his most basic form of reasoning: Protocol.

Sir Gauret remained firm.

"We can't allow that fiend to escape! You saw his eyes as well as I did. That was sorcery!"

"I don't yet know what I saw" spat Arthur, "all I know is that the rebels are gone and may return with reinforcements at any moment. We have a man injured, and I need to report this ambush to my father. What he need to do now is return to Camelot and bring my servant to Gaius."

"You're mad!"

"I AM NOT DONE YET!" roared the prince.

"We will take him to Gaius and see to it that he survives to attend his trial, should you wish to bring your accusations to the king. Until that time, he will be kept under my personal surveillance and protection to insure that he does not attempt to escape or cause any more damage. So for now, you will sheath your sword and you will return with Lavain, Arrok, myself AND Merlin to Camelot."

"And what if the boy wakes up along the way?" objected Sir Lavain.

"In his state, I doubt he will be capable of doing any of us any serious harm, let alone run away. I will carry him on my horse with me if it eases your worries."

The knights begrudgingly accepted their orders and left the prince to shoulder his servant's burden unmolested. For Arthur's part, the gears of his mind were finally lurching into motion. With a grim air about them, all five made their way back to Camelot.

* * *

So?

I tried to even out the four reactions: Gauret was violent, accusatory and generally Uther-ish; Lavain was practical and acted with reasonable suspicion; Arrok was a little confused, while not entirely opposed to Merlin; and Arthur pulled a Herois BSOD (points to whoever catches that reference).

Okay, so I lied about stalking my reviewers, but I'm sure you'll forgive me and still have the everlasting generosity to tell me what you thought, right? If nothing else, you'll boost my self -esteem and make me spend more time developing my fic, which may or may not lead to faster updates (unlikely).

Until next time~


	4. Chapter 3: Condemning Evidence

I think this one came out quite a bit quicker than my last updates. Yay~

I've always been bothered by people assuming that Arthur would either immediately love/hate Merlin when he found out. It also bugs me when people have him accept it as true right off the bat. I've always thought that he would be the type to look for proof. Something solid, you know?

And don't even get me started on the whole "He really knew all along" theory. I hate that. It just seems like an excuse to make a fic a unceremoniously break off all the conflict with "Oh yeah, I knew that. Duh". It just seems so... childish. Blah.

To be fair, I'm sure there are some well-done fics that include these. I may or may not have read any. I really can't remember right now ( be fair. It's like, what, 1:30 am?).

For all these reasons, I have steadfastly refused to give Arthur any sort of emotional certainty. At least, not until the very end (and that's just a maybe).

On a side note, I will also never refer to characters by thier hair color. I swear it. For some reason, no matter how convinient it may be, that always drives me nuts.

Disclaimer: Are you watching this on TV? Do you see any help from a cast and crew put in to this? Do the math.

* * *

Arthur had been right about one thing: Merlin did not attack them, nor did he attempt to flee. To the relief of everyone, the servant had stayed unconscious for the entire ride back to the castle (_"It's probably his wound, Sire" Arrok had offered tentatively "He looked right set to pass out even before Lavain hit him")._

Upon arriving at in Camelot, the prince had split from his fellow knights, carrying his servant towards the physician's chambers alone. Lavain had offered to accompany him, as a precaution, but he had refused. Sir Gauret had also insisted on "keeping the accursed wretch in his sights", but the prince had denied him as well.

"If this man is a sorcerer as you claim, and if he is dangerous, then I am perfectly capable of dealing with him myself, should the need arise." He snapped at them "Furthermore, in the event that he is not as much of a threat as you claim, I do not want him subjected to any more abuse."He added a cold glare at Sir Gauret, who did not flinch.

What he did not tell them was that he had a plan. He had thought up a way to buy himself some time to think, and oh how he needed to think right now.

And thus it came to be that Arthur was the only one to speak with Gaius about the recent events.

The prince was thankful for Gaius. When he'd brought Merlin in, he'd expected questions. To his relief, the only questions were the business-like inquiries about the wound itself: How long since the infliction, what type of arrow, had it been bound, etc. Gaius made quick work of the wound, pulling out the arrow and binding the area in one clean sweep. A bit of salve here, some water there, a bandage over it all and it was done.

"I suppose he'll be alright then?" Arthur asked quietly

"Yes. I expect he could wake at any time." Said the physician, "He'll need rest, and he won't be able to do anything too strenuous for a couple of weeks, but he should be resuming his duties in no time, my lord."

Both paused for a minute.

"Any time, you say?" the old man nodded.

"Gaius, I need you to do something. I need you to do this for me without telling anyone. Do I have your confidence that this will remain a secret?"

The man looked at him oddly, then nodded.

"You have my word, Sire."

"I need you to keep Merlin asleep" he seemed taken aback at the request, "You gave me your word, Gaius. I need Merlin asleep for as long as you can keep him that way. We don't have much time. Can you do it now?"

Gaius looked strangely at him, considering his options.

"I know, Sire, that you would not ask this of me" he replied, looking into his eyes "were it not important. I can have the draft ready in a moment." With that he turned to his herbs.

"Thank you, Gaius. There is something I wanted to look into; give the draft to Merlin as soon as it's done. This should not take long."

He turned and started up the stairs to his servants chambers. The physician shot him a quizzical glance, but did not protest.

Arthur opened the door without a second thought and began searching the room. He checked under the bed, and looked over the thin straw mattress for hiding holes. He searched the bottom of his chests and cupboards for hidden compartments. He shifted every scrap of cloth and opened ever container.

Finally, he checked the floorboards. With cold efficiency he soon found the loose board, lifting it and emptying the stash of hidden items: A few coins, a carved wooden figure, a blue crystal heart, an ornate staff and an old book.

Arthur opened the book, discovering a moment later that he could not read the majority of its contents. What he could read cleared up any confusions he may have.

Magic book. Magic staff.

He picked up both illegal items and laid carried them down the stairs with him. It was time to make a few unpleasant confrontations

*

Gaius was too old for this.

His ward was grievously wounded, and, even if he knew it would do no damage, drugging the boy was certainly unusual. Something grave was weighing on the prince, and the chances of Merlin's magic being secret were looking slim. For a moment, he had considered not carrying out the deed: if Merlin was in danger, shouldn't he be allowed to wake? Maybe, if he were conscious, he could flee before he were caught?

But after a moment, he realized the inevitable: even if he were to wake, Merlin could not run. Not in his condition. He was not very athletic on the best of days, and Camelot had more than enough resources to track him down. Once that happened, it was only a matter of time before he was overtaken. Magic or no, if he were confront with his wounds, he would die.

The old man sighed as he prepared the draft. His heart would probably stop soon if he the situation of Camelot did not change. There was just too much stress involved in his work. He wondered whether or not he should retire before his untimely doom, or if he should try to die in service. Neither seemed very appealing.

With the potion done, he had to make his choice. He hesitated one last moment, then finally administered the draft.

And then Arthur returned.

Holding the Sidhe staff.

And the book.

And Sigan's soul.

Oh yes. This job was going to kill him.

*

The look on Gaius' face when he entered the room made one thing very clear: he had known all along. Arthur had suspected as much.

"Sire…"

"Hunith is your sister, is she not?" he asked. Not even a flinch.

Gaius stammered for a moment, then responded "Y-Yes, Sire."

The prince nodded, considering. "You should be safe, then. Those with family relations are protected from the charge of harboring sorcerers. Although, in this instance, we might need some extra support. Is there any way in which you would be honor-bound to keep this a secret?" Gaius was in shock, it seemed. Arthur could see him beginning to deny the claims. "Don't bother denying it. I saw him use magic. And, even if I hadn't, these" he hoisted up the stash of magical contraband "should be proof enough for a trained eye like mine."

The physician seemed to deflate. His breathing became uneven and his skin lost what little color it had left.

"On…" he said, after a pause, "On the first day… in the first moments of his arrival… Merlin" he seemed to choke on the words "Merlin saved my life."

Arthur nodded again. "Great. That should be enough to-"

"And three days later, he saved yours."

The prince stopped.

"Gaius…"

The old man's gaze did not waver.

"Merlin was seen committing the crime of magic. His act was witnessed by three knights, and myself. He then, under verbal and physical attack, retaliated against one of the aforementioned knights. Sir Gauret is likely bringing his accusations to my father as we speak." The other flinched, moving a hand to his nephew "I have just found positive proof that these accusations are just. Despite what he may have done for me in the past, I cannot protect him now. Not from the other witnesses."

After a moment of silence, he started towards the door, evidence in tow.

"Sire!" he turned "Are you going to bring those to the king?" the question was quiet, resigned.

"…No."

Gaius' head snapped up

"I am bringing these back to my chambers, where I will hide them. No one is likely to search my room, and I am more than capable of keeping a few magical contraptions hidden for a while."

"Does that mean… are you…are you helping him? Will you try to save him, Arthur?"

His expression hardened.

"Do not confuse this. He has committed a very high act of treason, and, as the leader of Camelot's defense forces, I will carry out my duties. If he is accused, I will do what the law dictates."

His words confused the other man. "But… what are you doing, then?"

His composure slipped for a moment. He dropped his gaze, and stared at his boots, struggling with uncertainty. At last he came to one conclusion.

"I really don't know."

And with that, he left.

* * *

I decided not to make Arthur an emotionally troubled teenage girl either. He's a knight. He can get things done without having a Bella Swan-like "feelings overload". Besides, writing about how "betrayed, uncertain, and confused" he feels for a full paragraph feels dull and cheap. I refuse to do it. As mentioned above, I'm trying to stay out of the three main reaction types (exculding the "Already knew" scenario): Instant-hate, instant-forgiveness, and emotionally delicate flower wilt.

Anyway, ranting done. How was it? I based the relative safety rule on the fact that A) it would make sense, considering both humanity and the reason why Uther hates magic (it's always the sorcerer's fault, and those who were close to them were just betrayed, right?) and B) Niether Gwen, nor Merlin/Gaius, nor Mary Collins, nor Edwin were taken in when thier elatives were accused/convicted for sorcery. I just thought it'd made sense.

Gah. I have no idea what the next chapter will consist of. Most of the story will revolve around the time after Merlin's trial, so the actual telling of Uther and waking of MErlin might end up being shamelessly skipped over. It'd be cheap, and terrible, and shameless, but I might be able to make it work. I just have no idea how I'm going to write that bit! T^To

Until next time, I still love all of you. Especially reviewers, but anyone who reads this gets love, too.

Ciao~


	5. Chapter 4: Public Confessions

I LIVE!

I'm sorry this took so long, but more on that later! You've waited long enough! Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: The real owners are better with deadlines.

* * *

There wasn't really a plan behind all this.

Sure, there were bits and pieces: little things, like hiding Merlin's magical instruments in the vaults ('hide a cow in a barn', as he'd always been told), and putting Merlin out to delay a trial. Sure, he was fighting his little battles. The only problem was, did he really intend to go through the war? He still didn't even know what side he was on. The only thing he could do for now was watch, wait, and delay.

He had managed the last part. The laws of Camelot dictated that, much to Uther's dismay, an accused person must be present at their hearing, with the obvious implication that they be conscious. His father could argue, fume, and threaten all he liked, but he would not dare disobey his own laws. By keeping Merlin asleep, Arthur had kept him out of trial, thus out of a dungeon, and consequentially kept him in Gaius' care long enough to ensure his life's continuation.

For a while.

You could only keep a man asleep for so long. Gaius had managed four days, at the end of which he declared the immediate dangers of Merlin's wounds to be passed, and that the boy must be awoken. The physician had cut the steady dosages of potion they'd been giving his ward, and had managed a quick summary of the latest events to prepare his patient. Arthur didn't know exactly what they'd discussed, but it didn't really matter. All he needed to know was what happened after Uther was informed.

Merlin didn't say a word as they carried him away. He didn't struggle, and he didn't beg. He just limped along with the support of his 'escorts'. The only sign of activity he displayed was a quick, glance at Arthur: not a cry for help, not an accusing glare. He just searched him, just for a moment. And then he was led away.

***

Gwen stood anxiously next to Gaius, chewing her thumbnail.

This was ridiculous. Uther had done some very irrational things in pursuit of sorcerers in the past, but this was a whole new level. Of all the people in Camelot to accuse of sorcery, Merlin was certainly not a sane choice. Merlin didn't have a malicious bone in his body, let alone the power to lay waste to Camelot!

No, if he'd had any ounce of power, she'd have seen it by now. There's only so much time a person can spend in the stocks without trying to break free. If he could have, Merlin would have reached that point in his first week, and he might not be quite so familiar with the different stages of rot in produce.

She held on to Gaius' hand as they led him out. His clothing bulged where the thick bandaging covered his wounds, and he walked more slowly than usual, but he seemed well. She winced, though, as the guards shoved him before the King, noticing the significant amount of time it took him to get back up on him knees.

Uther sneered down at him, disgust written clearly on his face.

"Sorcerer," he began, "I will tell you right now. This is not a trial. This is a public witnessing of your confession, and of the judgment that will be given to you. My son, Arthur, claims that he did not properly witness your crime, and has refused to stand for or against you." All eyes turned to Arthur, who stood emotionless next to the throne. "However, three knights of Camelot have all claimed to have witnessed you perform acts of magic, which are prohibited by law in Camelot under penalty of death without exception. The choice now is yours: either confess, and die with the hopes that you may have repented some- or deny your charges and die all the same."

Gwen drew a sharp breath and looked back to Merlin. Surely, he would deny it, and there might still be some hope? He must have some excuse, right? This was all a misunderstanding of course, so surely things could be fixed?

Her thoughts were cut off when she realized that he had turned to look at her and Gaius. His eyes were sad, but he had a crooked smile on his lips. It was what he said next, however, that made her heart turn to ice.

"I'm sorry." He offered to them, before turning to face the king.

"I have been able to deny it in the past, but it looks like this time we've crossed a line." Uther stood up apprehensively in his chair, waiting with everyone else on the edge of his seat.

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, as if silently gathering his courage. He then opened them with the quiet determination that Gwen had only seen a couple of times before.

"I confess." He proclaimed, loud and clear. "I am a sorcerer."

***

The great hall was silent. Everyone stared.

After a moment, the king spoke.

"This scene is familiar to me, sorcerer." He said, slowly, "were you not accused of witchcraft by the late witch finder just this year?"

Merlin waited a moment, unsure of where this was heading. "Yes Sire, I was."

"And please remind me, how did you escape those charges?"

Another pause.

"Gaius, Sire," He started, slowly, "Gaius took the blame for the item evidence found against me."His expression shifted. "I will remind you Sire, that my crimes are mine alone, and that Gaius, as my relative, cannot be charged for harboring me under the laws of Camelot. He took the blame as an act of faith and love, but nothing more. You cannot hold this against him."

Uther sneered. "Yes, I am aware of that, boy." He spat, "however, my interest lies in what happened after he was arrested. I seem to recall that it was you who accused Aredian of forging evidence." He leaned forward again. "I will ask you this now, boy. Your answer will not change your fate, but I feel the need to investigate this matter."

Merlin did not move. He knew where this was going.

"Did you frame the Witch Hunter Aredian?"

***

Arthur blinked.

He hadn't thought of that. He had been trying to focus on what was happening at present, and hadn't had time to really consider past events in this new light.

But now that he considered it, it did seem suspicious. Once before, he would (and had) have had no doubts about Merlin's honesty in accusing Aredian, but now he was not quite so sure. His expectations of Merlin had been stretched beyond the limits, and he no longer had any idea what his servant was capable of.

Still, even with everything that had happened, he felt hesitant to point the finger at him. Even if he were a sorcerer, would he really have done such a thing? He waited, hard-faced, as the defendant spoke.

Merlin's expression was dark and cold, looking alien on his face.

"I did nothing more than repay his own actions." He said quietly. The king's eyes bulged, and Arthur drew a steady breath. On the other side of the room, Gaius was staring at the floor, and Gwen was shaking he head, her hand pressed to her lips, "His claims were well-founded, but the bracelet hidden in my chambers did not belong to either Gaius or myself. While Gaius was imprisoned, I looked into the matter and discovered the belladonna eye drops in town. I knew that Aredian had lied, but it was not enough." He raised his eyes to the king "So I did the same thing that he did to me. I accused him of a crime, and then planted three pieces of evidence in his room: one for lying, one for trying to kill Gaius, and one for threatening the Lady Morgana. The bracelets, the eyedrops, and the frog."

The great hall waited anxiously, everyone staring in awe and terror at Merlin.

"Did you use magic to push Aredian through the window, too?" Uther asked, casually.

"I caused him to drop the knife with which held the Lady Morgana prisoner. The fact that he fell was his own mistake, not mine."

Arthur couldn't believe it. Here was Merlin, sorcerer or no, discussing indirect murder and planting evidence as easily as one would the weather. The revelation that Merlin was magic was staggering, but this…

This was murder. This was cold-blooded ferocity, and absolute sheer determination. This was a man who was very ready to get his hands dirty. This was not Merlin.

Merlin, it seemed, was dead. As unsure as Arthur had been before, he no longer felt the instinctual trust that he had held for the boy. This was a new person, even if he had been there all along, and Arthur was going to have to adapt.

He watched with a stony expression as Uther began his final judgement.

"It seems," the King began "that there is much more to this story than there appears. Considering your time in the castle and the position you'd weaseled so cunningly into, I should hardly be surprised. In any case, I declare that you, Merlin, are guilty of the crime of witchcraft, and will be sentence to death in a week's time." Several gasps and were heard around the room. "During this time, you will be interrogated on everything that has happened since you came to Camelot, and we will tr to sort out what damage you may have in your time here, as well as what you hoped to gain by becoming my son's servant." He raised his arm and motioned for the prisoner to be taken away.

While he was roughly lifted to his feet, he made one last statement.

"Remember, Sire, that you were the one who hired me." Hissed Merlin "After I saved the life of Prince Arthur. I didn't ask for what you gave me, and I certainly will not let you claim that I did. I came to Camelot with no plot against you or he, and I have never plotted to harm you, with or without a position in the royal household. I saved your son, and you acted on your own."

The king's face twisted in disgust.

"Take him away."

The boy was pushed and shoved out of his courtroom, and silence fell as the heavy doors closed behind him. Merlin's fate had been sealed.

***

The prince stood quietly in the dungeons, watching his ex-servant."What did you think would happen?" Arthur mused, finally breaking the silence, "did you think I would defend you for this? Against my father?"

He looked at the prisoner in the cell. It was dimly lit, and his head bowed low in the corner of the tiny compartment. He had his elbows propped up on his knees, and was playing absent-mindedly with a bit of straw.

"I never expected that."

"But you hoped for it?"

There was no reply, but the wheat had stopped moving.

"When you were a child," He held the piece to his face and blew gently, loosing a few grains "did you ever wish you could fly?" For a moment, they floated about, twirling, "It's a nice thing to wish for. Makes perfect sense when you're a kid."

"But sooner or later," he said solemnly, "everyone grows up."

Both stared as the grains hit the floor.

"I couldn't have helped you any more than I did, even if I tried." Which he had, he might add. "I'm not even sure if you deserved that. Your motives are as of yet unknown, and your actions- those that you have confessed to, anyway- make no sense." He turned to his ex-servant.

"Why won't you tell us the truth?"

For the first time since the bandit attack, their eyes met.

"I did." He stated simply.

* * *

I did it! I finally got this chapter done!

So? I tried to keep Arthur in the same spirits as the previous chapters. I think he may have slipped a little here and there though. I thought, 'it's one thing for Arthur to realise what Merlin could do, and another for him to realise what he has done', so I tried to make throw him off balance again as a result.

As for Merlin, I already explained his position in the chapter. With his injuries, he knows he caouldn't escape if he waned to, and with three knights against him he's sure to lose, so he's decided to try and save his reputation ( and the reputation of magic ) by coming clean. He knows he's going to die now, but he's going to try and fufill his destiny all the same by opening up to Arthur. He hopes to show him the good of magic so that one day it might return under his rule. I haven't had a chance to write all that in yet, but I plan to. Am I spoiling then? Ah!

I apoligize again for the late release. My source for watching Merlin was cut off, and I had no access to any episodes for a long while. Plus, school has been nuts, and I've been busy playing ACII and FFXIII. Sorry! ///

I thank anyone who has managed to stay interested so far. I really love hearing your comments, and I want you to know that they make my day.


	6. Day 1: Serious Affairs

I have been so dead for so long. I wonder if anyone still even cares about this fic? I started it right around the time when Series 3 was due to start, so at first I wanted to wait and see what that would bring. Then I got a little discouraged by the events of 3. I didn't know how to make things work. Then there was school, and life, and screw all, this fic got lost in the back of my brain. Every time I would think about Merlin, I would think back to this, and feel guilty about it. But I told myself that I was too busy right now, and that no one really cared that much about it anyway.

Then, the other day, I watched an episode again, and felt like looking at this. That's when I realized that I had 34 reviews. For as little as I had written, 34 reviews were dedicated to telling me what you guys thought. And what's more? I had tons of e-mails telling me that people were following me for updates.

So I re-read everything I had written and decided, you know what? I'm going to finish this.

So that's that. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the wait. I'm sorry that you'll probably have to wait some more soon. I love anyone who still cares, whether or not you feel angry at me.

It's on.

* * *

Day one: six days before execution.

It was amazing how much care was put into the misery of Camelot's prisoners.

Cold water. That was what the guards used to wake him up with. A bucket full of _cold water_. In the hot season. Where on earth did they even get cold water this time of year? The water from the wells was lukewarm at best, but this was actually _cold_. It felt like it had been specially stored in the cellars, just for this. In any other circumstances, Merlin might even have enjoyed the cool feeling on his skin. Right now though, it was just surprising, and genuinely unpleasant.

On the other hand, the coldness might be indicative of a fever. Bad sign. Better let Gaius know about that later. It had been decided that Gaius would tend (under watch, of course) to Merlin's health until the execution. Uther wanted him to be alive when he burned him.

But that was beside the point.

The point right now was that he was being dragged, quite roughly, down the halls of the castle towards some interrogation chamber. He had no less than five knights accompanying him, and Arthur was nowhere to be seen. As uncomfortable as his presence would have been, the crowned prince's watchful eye was probably the surest guarantee of his safety, whether he trusted his servant or not. He had kept him alive this long, right?

He looked at his escorts. He'd met most of them before. That wasn't to say he knew any of them well, but he had every reason to believe that they were uncomfortable with the situation. He looked down at his bandaging: Five guards was a presumptuous amount indeed. Even if he could fight his way past them (possible), get out of his bonds (bothersome) and escape the castle (not likely), the chances of him managing to limp his way out of Camelot covered up to his eyebrows in city guards before exhausting himself were just depressing. He had never learned any teleportation spells ("Not worth it," Gaius had once told him, "as you would probably end up dropping yourself off a tower somewhere. Eat your soup").

But even if it were possible, he wouldn't have taken the opportunity. It was nice to muse about saving his own pasty skin, but he had work to do first.

His secret was out. It had been out the moment Arthur Dolluphead Pendragon had stepped into another stupid trap. There was no way and no point to denying his magic. Arthur knew. Uther knew. All of Camelot knew. That was said, done, and wrapped up in a pretty little parcel with ribbons and bows. They knew about his magic. But they needed to know _more_.

Camelot had enemies she could not see. There were beast she had never heard of, and people, whom she had seen before, but whose blades and poisons had escaped her watchful eye. Every day, around the country, under the floor boards and in the kitchens, countless people were sharpening knives and skills in hopes of slitting her throat, and only Merlin could recognize them. Somebody needed to tell her about the monsters under the bed before the royal family of idiots invited them to dinner.

Beyond just practical knowledge, he needed to tell Arthur _why_ he had made his choices as well. The prince hadn't abandoned him. Gaius had told him about the fate of his "secret stash", and, though he hadn't helped much in the end, that was something. Plus, his testimony towards Merlin's guilt would probably have had him killed on the spot, to hell with his criminal record. The fact that he had stayed neutral had given him hope. Not for forgiveness, but for reason. That was all he needed.

And so, when he had been so graciously flung in front of the king, and told outright that yes, he was going to die horribly either way, he had taken the news with a stony face and, nearly wetting himself, had gagged the reasonable part of his brain and fessed up. Then he'd gone on to act like the most pretentious and dignified little git he could imagine (drawing inspiration from the Crowned Prat himself, naturally) and given as much truth as he could babble out without squeaking like thirteen year-old girl and going giggling mad. He had to make an impression. He had to make Arthur think that he was reasonable and honest so that when he- oh _HELL. _He was going to die.

On the plus side, he thought, the secret was out. No more worrying about that. He would have plenty of time off, too. No more polishing Arthur's armor or hunting rats, and no more cleaning Gaius' leech tank. He wouldn't even have to scrub any floors! Plenty of sitting down and resting his wound, too. Really, this was like a vacation, if he really stopped to think about it. A full week of vacation. Then the chop. Or the stake. Lovely. Relaxing. Pleasant. This was going to be just… horrifying.

At that moment, Merlin had to remind himself to shut his mental trap before he made himself violently ill. Again.

The crowned prince of Camelot was tired. Very tired. It was early in the morning, and he had not slept very well at all the night before. Not to mention how off-putting it was to deal with a new, trembling servant to prepare him for the interrogation of his previous one. This whole event was becoming quite a mess.

He looked up as, lo and behold, the damaged-looking nightmare himself was thrust into the room.

Both men sat in silence and watched as Merlin's ankle was shackled to his chair, and the restraints on his wrists were tested. Then, with one last wary look at their captain, the five escorts left the room, bolting the door behind them.

The prisoner blinked in surprise. He was now quite alone with Arthur, sitting in a rather small room with only a desk and two chairs, and plenty of material for recording anything that might be learned in their coming "discussions". He looked back to the prince, who was at that moment engaged in running a hand over his face.

"So…" he began, hoping to ease the tension, "You're my interrogator?"

"Yes, Merlin, I am" He replied, not looking up.

"Just you?"

"Just me."

"Isn't that…" Arthur opened one eye at him through his fingers, "well… couldn't that be… dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" he sounded skeptical, almost surprised at the thought.

"Well, I mean," Merlin knew that he shouldn't point this out, but really, it wasn't very clever,"what if I were to attack you?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't!" he added hastily, "but you really ought to consider that."

"Father is not well enough to do this himself," which, of course, they both knew, "and I'm the one who has had the most… perspective… on your activities since your arrival. Apart from Gaius, of course."

"But really now, should we be alone in here? You're the prince."

"There are five guards right outside. We're bolted in."

"What if I were to try and kill you? Or take you hostage and use that to escape? Did you even consider that?"

At this Arthur guffawed. As if the thought of it was hilarious. As if Merlin had just told him that Sir Leon had taken up dressing in drag. As if they were friends again. Even he chuckled a little, albeit nervously.

"Wwhhhaaaat is so funny?" he asked slowly, trying not to push his luck.

"As if," Arthur struggled between laughs, "as if you could hurt me."

"I have magic."

"Be that as it may, Merlin, I've spent enough time around you to feel very secure on my own. You could never beat me."

"You don't know that."

"Merlin," he stepped up from his chair and drew his sword to place it lightly at Merlin's throat. A skeptical little smile stayed on his face. It wasn't a threat. It was a statement.

"I could take you apart with one blow."

Merlin sat quietly in his chair, looking very seriously at his friend. He was taking this far too lightly.

"So," Began the prince, after he had sat himself back down behind the heavy wooden desk between them, "Let's start at the beginning. When and why did you begin to practice the forbidden art of sorcery?" He kept his tone light, but his eyes stayed very keenly on Merlin. He wasn't just interrogating by order: he wanted to know.

"I was born with magic. I've been using it for as long as I can remember." There was no point in lying. This was exactly what he wanted.

"I don't believe that for a second, Merlin," he frowned, "Nobody is _born _with magic. I had hoped for a degree of honesty from you."

"Do you remember the druid camps?"

He paused, a little taken aback. "Yes… what about them?"

"Do you remember the children there?"

"I suppose. What has this got to do with-"

"Do you honestly think children would have had long enough to have learned magic if it weren't something they were born with? Even just a little?"

Arthur opened his mouth, and then shut it, confused. "I don't remember ever actually _seeing _them perform magic."

"What about that one boy, Mordred? Do you remember how powerful he was? That isn't something a child of his age could just pick up in a book." This was good. Arthur was listening.

"That…" his face scrunched up in discomfort. These were obviously questions he had never thought to ask himself.

"Alright," he finally conceded, "It's possible that you were born with it. I'll give you that. That doesn't make it right, though" he hurriedly added. "Let's just… move on."

"Fair enough." This was going very, very well.

"Why did you come to Camelot? What was your aim?" again, this was a serious question in Arthur's mind.

"I didn't have one."

"Sorry? Even you can't buy that."

"Really. I came here to live with Gaius. Get a job. Keep my head down. Mum sent me."

"Hunith? Why would she send you here of all places?"

Merlin stared at his hands, fidgeting with his restraints. "I've heard that Gaius used to do a little magic before the purge. Mum didn't know how to deal with me anymore, and she thought that he would. She didn't have anywhere else to turn. He is my uncle, you know."

"Surely something must have prompted her."

"She found out that…" he stopped, and stared off at the desk now, "she found out that… Will… he found out."

Arthur took a moment to remember his servant's dead friend.

"That he had magic?"

"That _I _have magic. Will never cast a spell in his life."

A subtle little realization clicked neatly into place in Arthur's mind.

"He covered for you. You brought the wind in Ealdor." His eyes widened a little, and he let out a whistle. "You were going to tell me. Right then and there. Weren't you?"

There was a moment of silence.

"I thought about telling you, you know," Merlin said quietly, "I thought about it so many times. Sometimes it was like we were friends, almost. I know I was just your servant, but sometimes…" he looked at him, searching his face, "sometimes I thought that maybe, just _maybe, _you might keep my secret if I told you."

Arthur said nothing.

"But every time things got desperate, or that magic would have fixed everything, or that I felt safe enough to tell you, I always remembered how you acted when we burned Will." He swallowed.

Arthur had to change the subject. "What happened when you first arrived in Camelot?"

Merlin's eyes shot up, and he laughed.

"After I met up with Gaius? I met you, of course! Don't you remember?"

Arthur had to snort now. "Ah, yes. Now I remember. Great job on keeping your head down."

"Yeah… really didn't think that through."

"And after that?"

"And after that…" he paused, considering how to phrase it, "I met someone very important. Someone who has played a very large role in my life since. A source of information for me. Someone of magic."

"In the city?" he asked, anxious of such a person so nearby. If there were others, he had to know.

"Not anymore" said Merlin dismissively, waving a shackled hand, "don't bother looking for him."

"Ah… I see." Blatant lie. "And what did this, err, source, tell you?"

Something changed in Merlin's face. Suddenly, he was the serious Merlin. The secretive Merlin. The absurdly devoted Merlin. The strangely… _wise _Merlin. The Merlin that Arthur now recognized as the magical Merlin.

"He told me that it was my destiny to become the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth," he paused to look directly into Arthur's now alarmed face, "and that it was also my destiny to protect _you,_ and to keep you alive long enough to become the greatest king in all of mankind's history, and to bring magic back to Camelot."

There was a pause again.

"_Me?" _Arthur asked incredulously. "_That's _why you've stayed so close to me? That's the reason for all that we've been through? Everything you've ever done for me was because you believed what some stranger told you about me becoming some great king?" He could feel the edges of anger just starting to creep in behind the disbelief.

"Nah, I thought it was all rubbish."

The anger chocked on itself.

"The bit about me, I could have believed. I've always been more powerful than anyone I've known. But _you? _Not a chance. I'd met you by then. I told him he must have the wrong Arthur, and that you were an idiot. A complete prat." Arthur was dumbfounded, and let his mouth hang open and felt his eyebrows rise higher and higher on his brow. He could have given Gaius a run for his money.

"I told him, that I wouldn't care if anyone tried killing you on my watch." Arthur's jaw snapped shut. "I think I even told him that I'd lend them a hand."

Oh. _Oh. _So it was true. There had been a plot. As much as he had wanted to believe otherwise… Merlin was just like the rest. Just another assassin.

"And then Lady Helena arrived at the dinner, and cast her spell."

Arthur remembered that bit, and his thoughts stopped.

"You saved my life." He almost whispered it. It made no sense, but it was the one fact that could save everything. If Merlin said the right things next, then everything he had hoped for might not yet be lost.

"I didn't really plan it out," He muttered, "But everyone else was asleep, and she hadn't seen me. She was going to kill you while you couldn't fight back. I didn't even think it through before I sent that chandelier crashing on top of her."

"So you just… killed her? Just like that? Could have been a bit more subtle."

"I told you, I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing. She didn't even die right away," he complained, "she had to throw that stupid knife of hers just as you all woke up!"

"And you saved me again."

"For everyone to see! I risked my neck using that second bit of magic to get there on time." he groaned, "and what do I get for it? A twenty-four-seven job as the personal whipping boy of the crowned arse himself! I almost regretted saving you."

Arthur laughed again, feeling an intense amount of relief. This was his Merlin again.

"I'm glad you find it funny," Merlin snorted, failing to hold back his own laughter, "because I certainly didn't. I spent a full five minutes scoffing at this ancient magical being about his ridiculous prophecy, and the next thing I know I'm doing exactly what he told me to! One little mistake, and I've been saving your sorry rear ever since!"

"I doubt you did that much."

He groaned again. "You have _no idea._ I really wish you'd take more care of your own safety sometimes. It would save me a lot of trouble."

"Like how?"

"For one," he looked very seriously at the prince, "when I tell you that it could be dangerous to lock yourself in a room with a sorcerer, you really ought to take me seriously."

"A sorcerer? Maybe. Merlin with magic? Not worth the trouble."

"You really don't know that."

He stopped. "Is that a threat?"

"I won't be around to protect you soon, Arthur. You need to be careful."

"Merlin, I told you already," he drew his sword again and walked towards the chair, "I could take you apa-"

But before he could finish, he was off his feet, and on the ground, staring directly at his own blade, which hovered over his throat seemingly of its own accord. He looked over just in time to see the gold fade from Merlin's eyes.

"And I told _you_ once before," he said quietly, earnestly, "that I could do it in less than one."

Arthur stared, wide-eyed with his pulse racing through his exposed neck. He breathed a sigh as the sword floated itself back into his open hand.

"But I never would. Not to you."

They both sat in silence as the five guarding knights returned to take Merlin away.

* * *

Couldn't help making the interrogation this way. Merlin isn't Merlin without humour. If you make a longer fic about this show too serious, then I feel like you lose some of the best of the show. Old habits die hard, and I'm sure that friends couldn't help but banter a little, even in this sort of situation. Plus, things are going well on both sides (I'm making Merlin very honest), so they're both a little relieved.

I have Merlin referring to the Great Dragon as his "source" because, in my mind, telling Arthur about his relationship with the dragon right off the bat would be honest, but not clever. He's using a bit of tact here.

For anyone curious, this happens in some weird AU ish verse after series 3, in which Gwaine, Lancelot and crew all were forced to leave again after the final episode. Don't worry, I'll pull them in later.

Also, I felt the need to explain why Merlin hasn't tried to escape, since so many of you pointed it out. Short story is that I need him to stick around for there to be a story. Long story is stated above. I'll expand on it later, too.

Next chapter, on the block. Booyeah.


End file.
